


Popping The Question

by Warp5Complex_Archivist



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-04-09
Updated: 2006-04-09
Packaged: 2018-08-15 23:56:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8078824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Warp5Complex_Archivist/pseuds/Warp5Complex_Archivist
Summary: Trip discovers that the simplest question is always the hardest to ask. (02/16/2006)





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Kylie Lee, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Warp 5 Complex](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Warp_5_Complex), the software of which ceased to be maintained and created a security hazard. To make future maintenance and archive growth easier, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but I may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Warp 5 Complex collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/Warp5Complex).

  
Author's notes: Beta: Thank you to GroovyGoddess and MeanOldCow for their comments and suggestions. Any mistakes that remain are mine and mine alone.  
  
This was written for all the T/R fans who read my recent story 'Haunted Heart'. Y'all deserve something on the fluffy side after putting up with all that angst.  


* * *

"I'm gonna ask him to marry me." I say. Jon just grunts and continues to shovel his scrambled eggs into his mouth.

"That's all you've got to say?" I ask. I'm kind of disappointed by his reaction to my announcement.

"Trip, you've been saying that for the past three months." He sounds exasperated.

"So what if I have?" I say defensively. "It takes a little time to work up to this sort of thing, you know."

"A _little_ time?" He says with an irritating smirk.

"This time it's for real, Jon. I've got the ring and everything." I pull the black velvet-covered box out of my pocket and open it to show him the plain gold band inlayed with a single small diamond. It's simple and elegant. Not too fancy. Malcolm doesn't like things to be too fancy.

"If that's the case, then why are you telling me and not him?"

"'Cause I want it to be special. I was hopin' that you'd let me have dinner in here with him tonight. Alone that is." Jon laughs.

"I'm pretty sure I could have figured out that part on my own, Trip. It's not a problem. You can use my private mess tonight, but if any sexual escapades occur on my table, I don't want to know about it. I still can't bring myself to sit on that couch in the officers' lounge after what you told me. There is such a thing as too much information."

It takes me a few seconds to figure out that he's referring to the first time Malcolm and I made love. Yeah, we did it right there on the couch in the officers' lounge. We were both a little drunk at the time, but that's beside the point. I was so happy that I just had to tell someone about it the next day. So of course I told my best friend.

"That was almost three years ago." I say. "Besides, I only told you because I thought you'd be happy for me."

"I was and I still am. But certain images have a tendency to linger." Jon shudders theatrically. "There are some things I don't want to know about my best friend or my armory officer."

"All right. All right." I say. "In exchange for the use of your private dining room, I promise to keep the details to a minimum. Okay?"

"It's a deal."

* * *

I play with my dessert, slowly turning the slice of pineapple upside-down cake into a pile of inedible crumbs. Chef will kill me when he sees how much non-resequenced food I've wasted tonight, but the butterflies in my stomach have multiplied to the point where eating has become impossible.

Malcolm doesn't seem to notice my growing tension. He's too busy savoring his own piece of cake. I wait anxiously for him to finish. At last, he polishes off the cake and takes a final sip of tea. He leans back in his chair and gives a satisfied sigh.

"That was an absolutely lovely meal, Trip." He says with a smile. "You must have gone to a great deal of trouble to put all of this together. Thank you."

"You're welcome." I smile back nervously.

Okay. This is it. The moment is here. But now that it is, I'm not really sure how I should do this. Should I get down on one knee? Or would that be over the top? Dang. I should have thought this through a little better. Maybe I should put this off until I've had a chance to think about it some more.

Oh, what the hell. Getting down on bended knee is traditional, isn't it?

"Malcolm...there's something I, uh..." I rise from my chair. Oops. I forgot my napkin was on my lap. It flops onto the deck before I can grab it. Oh, well. I'll deal with it later. I drop down to my knee at the exact moment Malcolm leans over and retrieves the napkin from the floor. He hands it to me. He looks a little puzzled when I make no move to get up. Gathering my courage, I smile and reach into my pocket.

"Malcolm, will you..." The sudden blaring caterwaul of the tactical alert system eclipses the rest of my question. Damn. Sometimes I think that the universe must really hate me. I scramble to my feet and follow Malcolm out of the room.

* * *

You know, just once I'd like to meet an alien species that wasn't bent on taking over the ship or blowing us to bits. This latest group nearly succeeded in the blowing us to bits department, and it's well into the early morning hours by the time I'm done putting my beautiful engine back together. It's not perfect, but it'll have to do for now. I'm so tired I can barely see straight.

I drag myself to my quarters. I'm pleased to find my bunk already occupied by a certain armory officer. Moving as quietly as I can, I strip off my filthy uniform and quickly get ready for bed. I really should take a shower, but I'm too tired to even think about it.

I crawl in next to Malcolm. He stirs and plasters his sleep-warmed body up against mine. God, it feels good.

"Trip. Finally." He says drowsily. "Was wondering."

"I'm sorry, Darlin'." I say softly. "I didn't mean to wake you."

"Mmm. 'S all right. Engine fixed?"

"For now. Are the cannons back online?" I already know they are. He wouldn't be here otherwise.

"Mm hum." He murmurs in sleepy contentment. I place a gentle kiss on his forehead.

"Hey, Malcolm?" There's no reply. He's already fast asleep again. Oh, well. I suppose this isn't the time to be asking him anyway. It should be done at a special moment; not when we're both exhausted.

"G'night, Darlin'." I cuddle him close and follow him down into sleep.

* * *

"So. How did it go last night?" Jon's eyes are bright with curiosity.

"How did what go?" I ask. I pick absently at the label on my beer bottle and pretend to be engrossed in the water polo game playing on the screen.

"I thought you said you were going to ask him for real this time."

"I was, but that was before those damn aliens attacked us." I heave a sigh. "I was just about to pop the question when the alarm went off. And after that...well, it kinda killed the mood, you know"

"Do you want to borrow my private mess again?"

"Nah." I shake my head and take a gulp of beer. "I'm gonna have to come up with something else now."

"Why?" Jon asks with a frown. "What are you waiting for? Just ask him." I stifle a sigh of annoyance.

"I'm waitin' for the right moment." I say. "I want it to be perfect."

"He can't say yes if you don't ask him." Jon says mildly.

"I know that." I say with a scowl. "I'm not gettin' cold feet, Jon. I'm gonna do it when the time is right."

"All right." He says. "But I still think you should just ask him."

* * *

I wipe the sweat out of my eyes as I take up my position on the mat. I'm starting to get a little winded, but overall I'm pretty pleased with how this session is going. I widen my stance a bit more and shake my shoulders to loosen my muscles.

"Ready?" Malcolm asks.

I nod and wait for his attack. He's in no hurry, and when he finally does make his move he almost takes me by surprise. I sidestep and grab onto him. I manage to bring him down, but I'm just a little too slow to keep him there. He bucks and twists under me, and suddenly I'm the one who's pinned on the mat. Malcolm grins down at me, his gray eyes sparkling.

"That was better. Much better." He says encouragingly. "You nearly had me that time."

Damn, but he looks fine. His skin glows with a fine sheen of sweat and his black tank clings provocatively to his body. Sparring with Malcolm has some definite perks. I'm disappointed when he climbs off of me. He reaches down and helps me up.

Maybe Jon is right. I should just ask him. The ring is sitting on one of the benches under my towel. I'll just wait for Malcolm to throw me again, and then when he's sitting on me all smug and happy, I'll pop the question. It's as good a plan as any.

"Ready?" He asks.

"Oh, yeah. You bet I am." I say with a grin. This time he comes at me almost immediately.

We've been working on throws for most of the session, and I'm completely unprepared when he throws a punch at me instead. If I'd had my mind on the training session and not on my little plan, I wouldn't have been caught off guard. Malcolm does this with all of his advanced students. We're supposed to be prepared for anything. Instead, I just stand there like a deer in the headlights.

Malcolm manages to pull his blow at the last second. The effort throws him off balance and he staggers slightly. He glares at me, but I can see the fear flickering behind his anger. He could have really hurt me if he hadn't pulled back when he did, and we both know it.

"Damn it, Trip! Pay attention! This isn't some kind of game."

"I'm sorry." I say. "I-I just remembered somethin' that I forgot to do down in engineering. Somethin' important."

"Well next time remember before you say that you're ready." He says frostily. I sigh inwardly. When he gets all icy like this, it's best just to give him some space.

"Uh, okay. I should go now and, uh..." I trail off uncertainly. He sighs in exasperation and waves a dismissive hand at me.

"Fine. Go do your 'something important'."

I grab my towel, careful to make sure I've got the ring as well, and exit the gym. Guess that wasn't such a good plan after all.

* * *

"That sure was a beautiful wedding, wasn't it?" I say.

"Yes. Lovely." Malcolm says absently before taking another sip of champagne. Well, it's not exactly champagne, but it's as close as we could come to it out here. The dull greenish-gray color is a little off-putting, but it tastes okay and it has bubbles.

"This makes, what? Five shipboard weddings now?" I ask. Malcolm gives me a quick sidelong glance.

"Six, I believe." He seems kind of distracted, but before I can ask him what's on his mind, someone calls out for another toast. I retrieve my own glass and join everyone in drinking to the newlyweds' health and happiness.

The festivities move along quickly, and before long the single women are all crowding together, waiting for the throwing of the bouquet. It's not much of a bouquet--just a few weedy looking daisies culled from hydroponics. We don't grow many flowers down there. Most of the space is devoted to growing vegetables and plants that have some kind of medical or scientific purpose.

From what I heard, some nice flowers had been brought up from the last planet we visited, but Phlox had refused to let them out of quarantine. Something about the presence of a symbiotic parasite that wouldn't survive if the flowers were cut. Probably just as well. Our experiences with alien pollen so far haven't been all that good.

Crewman Tamika Johanssen grins at her single counterparts before turning around and tossing the bouquet over her shoulder. Several of the women make a lunge for it, but the weedy thing is too small and light to travel in a straight line. It gets caught in a draft from the air cycling system, drifts sharply to the left, and lands squarely in Malcolm's drink. He blinks in surprise and fishes it out.

Shrieking and laughing, the women crowd around him to congratulate him. He looks adorably confused by it all.

The flowers, which weren't exactly the best specimens to begin with, look a little worse for wear after their bath, but that doesn't matter. What matters is that he's holding them. This is the chance I've been waiting for.

I quickly check to make sure the ring is in my pocket. It is. I sidle up to Malcolm. He's still looking at the flowers with a faint frown as if trying to figure out where they'd come from.

"Malcolm." I say. He looks up at me. "Malcolm, will you..." I trail off. His face has gone absolutely white. He thrusts the flowers and glass into my hands and then bolts out of the mess hall, one hand pressed over his mouth.

Alarmed, I drop everything on the nearest table and go after him. I find him in the men's room. He's on his knees in front of one of the toilets, retching so violently that it sounds like his body is trying to turn itself inside out.

I squeeze into the stall beside him and rub my hand gently over his back until he's done.

"It's okay, Darlin'." I say soothingly. "Just relax and breathe."

"Easy for you to say." He mutters. He rests his head in his hands and tries to catch his breath.

"How much of that stuff did you drink anyway?" I ask.

"I'm not drunk." He protests weakly. "I had a few sips of champagne during the toasts. That's all." He suddenly leans forward and heaves again, but this time nothing comes up. I can feel his body tremble in reaction to the violent spasms.

"Bloody hell." He mumbles as he wipes a shaking hand over his mouth.

"I guess you picked up some kind of bug or something. Poor baby." I'm a little worried by his lack of response. Malcolm hates being called 'baby'. At the very least, that should have earned me an icy glare.

I give his back a final soothing rub before standing and going out to the sinks. I grab a paper cup out of the dispenser and fill it with water. By the time I return, he's sitting on the floor with his back against the stall wall. He looks terrible. His face is pale and sweaty, and it sounds like he's having trouble breathing.

"Malcolm?" I ask in alarm. He doesn't answer. I kneel down in front of him and put the cup aside.

"Malcolm?" I pat my hand against the side of his face until he opens his eyes. They look glazed and unfocused. I have to admit that I'm a little scared now.

"You stay right here. Okay?" I say. I'm not sure if he's awake enough to understand me. "I'm gonna go and get some help." I bolt out of the bathroom and back into the mess hall. It doesn't take me long to round up Phlox and a first aid kit.

We find Malcolm lying on the floor. His lips have taken on an unhealthy blue tinge and his breath wheezes harshly in his throat. It's a scary sound.

I hover uselessly as Phlox takes his scans and then injects Malcolm with something from the medical kit. It seems to help. Malcolm's labored breathing eases and his body relaxes slightly. Phlox looks up at me.

"Would you give me a hand, Commander? I'd like to get him down to sickbay."

Between us, Phlox and I manage to get Malcolm up on his feet. He already looks a little better. His face has more color and his eyes aren't so dazed. He's still pretty wobbly though; enough that I suggest it would be easier if I just carry him.

The offer is met with a scowl and a growled "don't you dare" from Malcolm. I'm relieved by the reaction. He must be feeling better if he's up to snarling. I smile and wrap my arm around his waist instead. He leans into me as we slowly make our way down the corridors.

He spends the next twelve hours in sickbay. Turns out he's highly allergic to the alien champagne. By the time he's released, the flowers have wilted and the moment is long gone.

* * *

I stare down into my glass of bourbon and frown.

"I dunno, Jon."

"Don't know what?"

"It's just... This doesn't seem to be working."

"What isn't working?"

"Asking Malcolm to marry me."

"Well, as far as I can tell, you haven't asked him yet so how can it not be working?"

"That's just it! Every time I come close to doin' it, something happens to mess it up. What if it's some kind of sign? What if the universe is tryin' to tell me something? What if me an' Malcolm aren't really supposed to be together?"

"Since when do you believe in omens?"

"Jon..."

"I think you've had too much to drink." Jon reaches over and snags the glass out of my hand.

"Hey!"

"I really think you're making this more difficult than it has to be." He says. I sigh.

"Yeah, yeah. I know. Just ask him."

"Well, why not? Malcolm's the kind of man who values a straightforward approach."

"Maybe." I'm not convinced. Malcolm might like things to be straightforward, but I want to do this right. I want to do it in a way that lets him know exactly how much he means to me.

"Can I have my drink back now?" I ask. Jon shakes his head in exasperation, but gives it to me anyway.

* * *

"Oh, God." I moan. "Do that again."

"What? This? Or this?"

"That! That!" I yelp as I arch into his touch.

"You like that, do you?" He asks with a sexy smile.

"Yes. Where the hell did you learn to do that?" Even after three years of sharing a bed with him, he can still surprise me.

"That would be telling." He says teasingly. "But if you liked that, you'll love this." I'm not exactly sure what he does to me next, but it leaves me writhing and moaning in pleasure. He quickly pushes me right to the brink and then holds me there for what seems like forever.

"Malcolm." I gasp. "Please." He finally takes pity on me and lets me tip over the edge. My orgasm hits me with blinding force, and for a long time afterward all I can do is lie there, lost in a golden haze of satisfaction.

"Trip?" Malcolm's voice penetrates my blissful daze. "Are you still with me?" My eyes are still closed but I can hear the smile in his voice.

"Nope. Died and went to heaven." I reply. He laughs and then slithers up my body and insinuates himself into my arms. I open my eyes and look at him. He's all happy and relaxed. If he were a cat he'd be purring right about now.

It's perfect, being with him like this.

On impulse, I reach for the box with the ring, but then hesitate. I don't know much about his past relationships. He doesn't talk about them very often. But from what little I do know, I gather that they usually revolved around sex, not love.

Will he get the wrong idea if I give him the ring now? I don't want him to think this is just about sex. Sure, the sex is important. Hell, with Malcolm the sex is absolutely mind-blowing. But I don't want him to think that's the only reason I want him to marry me. I love him for a lot more than that.

The ring can wait for another day. I gather him close and stroke my hands over the familiar contours of his body.

"I love you, Darlin'." I say gently.

"I love you too, Trip." He replies.

Wrapped in each other's arms, we slowly drift off to sleep.

* * *

Malcolm keeps a careful count of how many planets he's set foot on. He even writes down detailed descriptions of each one in a special paper journal. When I first found out about it, I thought it was a little strange. He didn't seem like the type. But that was before I really got to know him. He's got the heart of an explorer, just like the rest of us; only his is hidden by a thick layer of caution and paranoia. Until you get to know him, it can be hard to see the explorer under the tactical officer.

The planet we're orbiting will make number fifty-one for him. I'm gonna make sure that he remembers that number for the rest of his life.

The Torellians have invited us down for a tour of their capital city. Jon has already said that if all goes well, he's going to arrange for shore leave rotations starting tomorrow. Of course Malcolm's kicking up a fuss about it. He thinks the Torellians are hiding something from us. They seem pretty upfront to me. I suspect that once we're done with all the official stuff, Malcolm will relax a bit. And when he does, I'm going to wine him and dine him and ask him to marry me under the light of the twin Torellian moons.

He'll remember number fifty-one for sure.

* * *

Damn it. Why does he always have to be right?

The Torellians were hiding something, all right--like the fact that there's a radical isolationist movement on their world that doesn't much care for visitors. Our official tour was caught up in one hell of a riot. We managed to fight our way free, but not before Malcolm got hurt. And now I may never have a chance to ask him anything ever again.

I can hear the angry mob pounding away at the door to our temporary sanctuary. Our Torellian entourage cowers uselessly at the back of the room. Fat lot of good they are. Jon is on his communicator, calling for an emergency transport. I'm not really paying attention to what he's saying. I'm too busy trying to prevent Malcolm from bleeding out.

I order the Torellian Vice Chancellor to take off his fancy belt of office. He refuses.

"Do it." I snarl. "Now."

Their lies of omission got us into this mess in the first place. If Malcolm dies, I will gladly pull all six of the Vice Chancellor's eyestalks right out of his ugly head and stuff them down his lying throat. I'm guessing my murderous glare helps him figure that out because he suddenly pulls off his belt and holds it out to me.

"Tie it around his leg." I say sharply. "No! Above the wound."

The Vice Chancellor gives me a mutinous look but obeys, pulling the jeweled belt firmly around Malcolm's thigh. It helps a little, but not much. Bright arterial blood continues to pulse out between my fingers and for once I wish that Malcolm's heart wasn't so strong. I press down a little harder, trying to stem the deadly flow. Malcolm groans in pain, but I don't let up.

I want to say something to comfort him, but my mouth is as dry as dust and I can't get the words out. I can only watch in mute terror as the pool of blood beneath his leg grows.

* * *

I sit by Malcolm's bedside and turn the ring over and over in my fingers. Phlox told me that he's going to be fine, but I won't believe it until he wakes up.

It's funny. Time went by so fast when his life was spilling out in front of me, but now it seems to drag by at a snail's pace. An eternity passes before Malcolm finally groans and opens his eyes.

"Trip." He murmurs blearily. I close my hand around the ring, hiding it from sight.

"Hey, Darlin'."

"Everyone all right?" He asks.

"Yeah. We're all okay. How do you feel?"

"Fine." He must be feeling pretty bad because the lie is half-hearted at best. "Is my leg still there? Can't feel it."

"Yeah. You're still in one piece."

"Good." He lifts his hand in a silent request. I quickly slip the ring into my pocket, and then take his hand in mine, twining our fingers together. With a soft sigh, he closes his eyes and goes back to sleep.

I settle back into my chair and wait for him to wake up again.

* * *

"Come on, Trip. Time for you to go to bed."

I blink and try to focus my tired eyes on Jon.

"Can't." I mumble. "'M waiting for him to wake up."

"I know. But you need to sleep. Come on. You can sleep here, right next to him. That way if he wakes up before you, he'll see that you're here. Okay?"

"Okay." I'm too tired to argue. Jon helps me over to the nearest empty biobed and I somehow manage to crawl in.

"You were right." I say. "He almost died today. I should've just asked him. He almost died."

"Hush." Jon says as he drapes a blanket over me. "Go to sleep. That's an order."

"Okay." I surrender to sleep before the word is fully out of my mouth.

* * *

I love Malcolm. I really do. But sometimes he drives me crazy. Like right now. He's griping and grousing about being stuck in sickbay--as if that knife wound was nothing more than a paper cut. He thinks _I'm_ being unreasonable for not helping him talk Phlox into letting him go back to work.

I should go ahead and ask him to marry me right now, just to see if that would shut him up. But now really isn't the time and sickbay really isn't the place. But still...it's kind of tempting. I bet I'd catch him completely off guard and that almost never happens. It would be...

I suddenly notice that Malcolm has gone quiet and is looking at me with narrowed eyes.

"And just what are you grinning about, Mr. Tucker?" He asks.

"Nothing, Darlin'." I say innocently. "I'm just glad that you're still alive and complaining is all." And I am. Even if his bitching and moaning does drive me mad sometimes, it's a hell of a lot better than the alternative.

I lean forward and kiss him before he can say anything. At first he's all stiff and unyielding, but then he suddenly seems to melt beneath my touch.

As soon as he's out of here, I'm going to ask him.

* * *

We're cuddled up on 'our' couch in the officers' lounge, watching the stars go by. I dragged Malcolm down here after a quick dinner in the mess hall. He thinks we're just spending a little time together in celebration of his release from sickbay, but I have much bigger plans. The cuddling is just the lead up to the big moment.

I know it won't be like I had imagined. There's no fine food, flowers, candlelight, or soft music--nothing special. I feel kind of bad about that. He deserves more. But I don't dare put this off any longer. I'm not going to let fate throw a monkey wrench in my plans again. At least the lounge is a place that holds a lot of good memories for us.

Malcolm is snuggled up against my side, but he keeps fidgeting as if he can't quite get comfortable. It's kind of distracting.

"Is your leg botherin' you?" I finally ask.

"What? Oh, no. No, it's fine."

"You sure?" I ask. He smiles, but it's a little strained around the edges.

"I'm sure."

"Malcolm..."

"Trip, I..." We speak at the same time.

"Go ahead." I say quickly.

"I..." He slides off the couch to kneel in front of me. I frown. I'm pretty sure he shouldn't be stressing his leg like that yet.

"Trip, will you marry me?" He blurts the words out in a rush and it takes me a moment to register their meaning. I stare at the silver and gold ring in his hand and burst into laughter. I can't believe it. I've been working up to this for months and then he goes and launches a pre-emptive strike.

Malcolm's face closes down.

"A simple 'no' would have sufficed, Commander." He says. He struggles painfully to his feet. Damn, for a guy with a bad leg he can sure move fast. He's already halfway to the door.

"Malcolm!" I dart forward and grab him by the arm. "Wait. Please. I'm not laughin' at you or the offer. You just surprised me. Come on. Come sit down and let me explain. Please."

I urge him back over to the couch and make him sit. He stares down at the deck, refusing to meet my eyes. I kneel in front of him and take his hand in mine.

"Malcolm, look at me please." I pull the ring out of my pocket and hold it out to him. "I've been trying to ask you for months, but it looks like you kinda beat me to it. That's why I was laughin'." He stares at the ring in surprise.

"Oh." He says. He reaches out and traces his finger over the curve of the ring. "It's beautiful, Trip."

"So?" I ask him.

"So what?"

"Will you marry me?"

"I believe I asked you first." He says with a faint smile.

"Yes, of course I'll marry you, Malcolm. I'd like nothing better."

"Me too." Malcolm says. We exchange rings, and then Malcolm pulls me up onto the couch for a searing kiss. Even before the kiss breaks off, he's got my fly undone. Oh, yeah. Looks like I'm going to have another exciting tale for Jon tomorrow. On second thought, maybe I'll just keep the details to myself. Otherwise Jon might be tempted to throw the couch out the airlock altogether.

* * *

We're lying together in my bed, limbs tangled, bodies spent. I'm just starting to doze off when Malcolm's hesitant voice draws me back from the brink of sleep.

"Trip? What did you mean you've been trying to ask me for months? What stopped you?"

"Well, I wanted it to be perfect, but every time I got everything set up, somethin' would happen to ruin it. I was actually startin' to worry that the universe didn't want us to be together."

"Oh, Trip," Malcolm gives me a gentle smile, "you could have asked anytime. Every moment we spend together is perfect in some way. Didn't you know that?"

He kisses me tenderly and I suddenly realize he's right. It is perfect. It always has been.


End file.
